


Obedient Types

by Lanerose



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Game Mechanics as Plot Devices, M/M, Sephiroth Clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-31
Updated: 2006-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/pseuds/Lanerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are no words for the kind of failure you are."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obedient Types

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Icedark_Elf AKA Greed-sama for the beta read! ^_^ Also, it's amusing to me that this story was almost called Send in the Clones - a title later discarded due to it's complete lack of relevance to the story. This was originally written for forgottenlover as part of yaoi_challenge on LJ. Anyway...

Sometimes, Reno himself didn’t quite understand how he got into this sort of situation.

It had all begun with a routine mission. He, Rude, and Elena had been tracking down some information on the latest bit of scum to set up shop in Edge City, hoping to kick him out of town before things got bloody. Well, _bloodier_ – – there was always some blood involved in getting rid of someone, after all. Minimizing it had been a Turk goal ever since Tseng took command.

Then the clones had shown up.

Dealing with mob bosses, the three of them could manage. Usually, at least Reno would even manage to look cool doing it. Sometimes, Rude would throw in a firework or two, and though Elena always bitched about it afterwards, they all knew she loved a good show as much as Reno did. Every once in a while, someone got a little more mussed than they should, but generally speaking, it was all in a day’s work.

Clones, though – those were another thing entirely. Even before they merged with Jenova, they had incredible power. Only that son of a bitch Strife had ever defeated one alone, and he sure as Hades hadn’t been interested in helping Shinra track down mob bosses. The bastard never answered his cell phone, either, which had meant he was useless. A hero no one can get in touch with sure as fuck wasn’t Reno’s idea of a hero, but no one had ever asked him. Not that he didn’t understand Strife’s reasoning on the whole Shinra-is-evil thing. Four years as a lab rat would do that to a person.

He – the clones always seemed to be male, which was great because Sephiroth himself had always been damn attractive – had caught them by surprise. Piece of Scum #82 (and yes, Reno _did_ keep track all of his conquests on the battlefield as well as in bed) had just turned tail and made to book it out of town. Smiling with satisfaction, Reno had turned to give Elena her two minutes of bitching during which he would pretend to pay attention when a groan of pain from Rude’s direction caught his ear.

“Rude!” He shouted, turning just in time to watch as the older man crumpled to the ground, a spear-like blade impaled in his torso. Reno had been cursing, casting a Fullcure spell as he watched their attacker yank the blade back and hoping it would be enough. When Rude’s hand continued to twitch on the ground, Reno turned to face their attacker, only to catch sight of the unmistakable silver hair.

“A clone!” Elena yelled, pointing at the man. She had drawn her pistol, had it trained on him. He smirked, and her cartridge was emptied at him in the blink of an eye. A twirl of his staff later, and the bullets were gone. Where they had gone didn’t matter, couldn’t matter just then.

“Duh, Elena.” Reno replied as calmly as he could, smirking with a sense of surety that he sure as fuck didn’t feel, but she didn’t need to know that. He extended his electro-mag rod to its full length and tapped it against his palm. “You look after Rude, Elena. I think someone wants to play.”

The clone grunted an affirmative answer, a less than pleasant grin sliding easily on to his face.

“Reno! Don’t be an idiot, we should fight him together!” Elena screamed, but a brief shake of his red-haired head silenced her efficiently. Best thing about those obedient types – they’d do what you told ‘em to. Elena walked over to Rude then, and threw his arm over her shoulder, resting his weight on her smaller body. She glanced back and forth between him and the clone, who was ignoring her by that point. “We’ll see you, then, sir.”

“Yeah, sure.” He said. Her blue eyes stared at him, and he focused on the clone to avoid meeting them. From the corner of his eye, Reno watched her nod, and begin to make her way quickly back to headquarters.

“Shall we?” The clone asked, and the asshole had the nerve to chuckle. Reno had looked at his opponent for the first time then, really looked at him, and…

“Oh, SHIT!”

Now Reno was running. Running as though Sephiroth himself was right behind – well, actually, in a way, he kind of was. Regardless, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d legged it like this towards Kalm. Maybe the time Rude had finally gotten a little too fresh towards Tifa? Could have been – fuck!

The clone bore down upon him and Reno threw himself into a forward roll to avoid the blade, jumping to his feet and spinning around to use his rod to block the false man’s attack. He hurriedly cast a haste spell upon himself as he did so, and used the extra burst of speed it gave him to spin back and resume his dash towards Kalm.

The town had just come into view before him when the shots rang out. Reno didn’t even pretend to know where they had come from, but wherever it was, there could only be one person firing them.

“UGH-“ The cry of pain exploded from right behind him. Smooth steel brushed against Reno’s back then, ripping the jacket and shirt open from top to bottom, scratching his back, gouging it steadily deeper as the blade sank lower until Reno scraped together enough brain cells to get out of the way of the falling body.

“Shiva’s tits, what kept you, Valentine?” Reno shouted, staggering in a circle as he attempted to spot the red-cloaked man. He almost didn’t jump when a hand latched itself firmly onto his elbow, steadying him. Almost. The world started spinning then, and if the other man made any reply, he never heard it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Reno awoke, the first thing he noticed was the temperature. Kalm without a jacket at that time of year would have been cold by anyone’s standards, and it was colder without a shirt. He was laying flat on his stomach, and decided to shift so that he could get a better view of his location. The stabs of pain that pulsed through his Hades be damned back kept him from following through, though.

“You’re awake.” said a familiar voice as small hisses of pain escaped Reno’s lips.

“What’s it to you, Valentine?” The red head asked, turning his head to the right. The man was seated at a table across the room, far enough away that Reno could see his face without a problem. Probably deliberate, because Valentine thought of shit like that.

“You were injured.” The reply was swift and cool. The man’s tranquil visage revealed almost nothing, but the look in his eyes was the strongest tell Reno had found on anyone. He kept silent, though, as the dark haired man continued, “You failed to follow protocol, and nearly died as a result.”

“So what?” Reno replied, studying the other man carefully. He gauged the effect of his words before continuing, “Screw protocol.”

“Not following the proper procedure can result in injury to both yourself and your partners.” The man replied.

His face remained impassive, but that extra twinge of something still glimmered in his eyes. Reno grinned to himself. The red head had seen that look before, at times when either nothing could be said or there was no reason to speak. Now, though, with an injury that evidently warranted being watched closely – Valentine didn’t even have food on the table that he could pretend to have been eating – Reno could entertain himself with a few pointed questions.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a failure as a Turk because I don’t follow the rules, and it’ll get someone hurt and blah blah blah. That’s just the kind of failure I am.” Reno said, rolling his eyes. He fixed Valentine with a pointed gaze. “You, though? There are no words for the kind of failure you are.”

“Oh?” Valentine moved closer, coming to the side of the bed and bringing his eyes onto the same level as Reno’s.

“Fuck, yeah!” Reno stared at him, hardening his own gaze, trying to create a razor fine point that would shift past that blank mask and get at the man underneath it. Valentine said nothing in return, merely stared at him, and Reno felt obliged to continue. “I mean, you fucked up being a Turk, you royally screwed your girl over by trying to make her happy, you helped kill what little remained of her in the world, you gave up and lived in a fucking **_coffin_** for 27 years – what in Hades’ name do you call someone like that?”

Reno wasn’t sure what had worked, but if the rapid blinking of Vincent’s eyes was any indication – and he was sure it was – _something_ had hit home. He could see the thoughts flying behind the other man’s beautiful dark eyes, watched as confusion slid out from behind the mask and dashed itself across the elegant features before him.

“I… do not know.” The man in the red cloak replied, honest bewilderment racing freely through an uncontrolled expression.

Reno grinned, ignoring the little thrills of pain from his back as he reached out and drew the older man to him for a kiss. It started gently, just Reno’s lips pressing against Vincent’s, but a response to the pressure followed only a small hesitation. Reno pushed it further, deepening the kiss. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue lightly along Vincent’s lips, encouraging the other man until he could slide his tongue forward into the dark haired man’s mouth. Reno plundered the other man’s mouth, forcing his tongue into an intricate dance of tangling and tasting. When Vincent finally began to show some initiative in the kiss, Reno pushed him back abruptly.

“I do, actually.” He said, raising an eyebrow and smirking at the older man. “You’re a damned selfless fool, is what it comes down to. You don’t fucking know how to take what you want.”

Vincent stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. In the meantime, satisfied with his work and tired, Reno turned his head away, intending to drift off to sleep. He was surprised, then, when a hand caught his chin and, gently from being mindful to avoid aggravating his injuries, turned his head back.

“Perhaps it’s time for me to learn.” Vincent answered, swooping in to start a kiss (and later, much more) before Reno, who didn’t mind in the slightest, had the chance to complain.

The obedient ones might be easier to work with, Reno decided, but the unpredictable ones definitely were more fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Three years later:
> 
> "I fuckin' hate you," Reno said as he walked in the door of their apartment and flopped down on the couch. "You know that, right, Little Red?"
> 
> "Long day at work, then?" Vincent called from the kitchen.
> 
> “You can say that again! Some Planet-damned moron thought it would be just absolutely fuckin fantastic to try to restart the SOLDIER program,” Reno began, rubbing his temples as he leaned back into the black cushions. “Brought up a shitload of awkward questions about why SOLDIER got stopped in the first place, you know?”
> 
> “Perhaps I may be of some assistance to you?” Vincent said, his voice closer than it had been.
> 
> “Man, Valentine, you know I’d love to drag you into this, but-“ Reno stopped short as Vincent’s mouth descended upon his own. After a fierce and fiery kiss, he opened his eyes to see the raven haired man beside him, holding a tray of chocolate covered strawberries and wearing nothing but a short, wrap-around apron.
> 
> “You were saying?” Vincent said with a smirk as he brandished the tray. Reno popped a strawberry in his mouth before grinning back.
> 
> “You’ll do, I guess.”


End file.
